An Unnoticeable Aftermath
by summerartist
Summary: Malcolm's former occupation had some permanent effects.
1. Chapter 1

Author Notes: Contains spoilers

* * *

The morning on Enterprise was quiet. Few people conversed and the stars slid silently by in their wake. Many of the crew were still peacefully asleep.

Phlox was studying a Denobulan medical journal in the Mess Hall when someone sat across from him. He smiled and glanced up, expecting Crewman Cutler. His features lit up with delight when he saw that it was T'Pol. Though aloof, the Vulcan was already developing an excellent rapport with him. Being the only aliens on the ship did a great deal to cement friendships.

"Ah, Subcommander. I trust that your day is going well?" Though he kept his overzealous inflection, the volume of his voice dropped slightly.

"The day has barely begun, Doctor." She ate a spoonful of her Plomeek broth.

Everyone in the mess hall was a little bleary eyed and disheveled in appearance so early in the morning. T'Pol was the immaculate exception. The maroon turtleneck she wore bore her usual pips and the throat of the garment was a light cream color. Phlox thought it looked pleasant on her. She did have excellent taste when it came to color.

"There is something I have wanted to bring to your attention, Doctor."

"Oh?" The Denobulan's eyebrows rose and he silently urged her to continue.

T'Pol's eyes darted around for a moment before she spoke. "I have come to suspect that one of the senior staff is not practicing proper hygiene."

Phlox remained impassive. "I see."

Undeterred, T'Pol continued. "I have chosen to divulge this information to you because you are in the most preferable position to provide guidance for this crewman and you would be able to keep the matter discreet."

Phlox seemed nonplussed as he stirred his tea and removed the teabag. "And the identity of this crewman is?..."

T'Pol lowered her voice. "Mr. Reed."

"Ah."

"You do not appear to be surprised by this information."

Phlox smiled softly. "Tell me, T'Pol, what has brought this situation to your attention?"

T'Pol swallowed before divulging. "Mr. Reed is a very attentive and diligent officer, but his presence has become...difficult. My nasal numbing agent is effective for blocking the scent of the other crewmen but his is much stronger than the scent of the others."

"I see."

"I have suggested that he utilize the showering facilities in the gymnasium whenever he felt it necessary and he assured me that he uses them frequently. However, I have reason to doubt him. His aroma is quite...pungent."

"I wish that you hadn't done that."

T'Pol raised her eyebrows.

"Has it occurred to you that his...aroma might have an unavoidable cause?"

T'Pol's brow furrowed. "Is there a medical condition that would have such an effect?"

Phlox smiled. "Ah, I have perhaps said too much. But the fact remains that Mr. Reed is a very sensitive individual and I'm sure that he is doing everything in his power to correct the situation. In the meantime might I suggest that you merely try to tolerate his scent?"

T'Pol appeared somewhat appeased. "I will continue to make an effort. As long as you are aware of his situation I am confident that the matter will be competently handled. As a superior officer it was my duty to express interest for a fellow officer's wellbeing."

Phlox's smile did not quite reach his eyes. "I assure you that I am very aware of Mr. Reed's situation. I appreciate your discretion by informing only me. I would prefer it if you would regard this conversation as a confidential consultation."

T'Pol nodded dutifully. "I will not divulge this information to anyone else. Though I doubt that if I informed the Captain that he would have taken the topic with the gravity it requires. He seems to derive amusement from the opinion my species holds about the scent of humans."

Phlox chuckled more light-heartedly. "Ah, yes. Humans do smell strongly, but I find the scent quite...Earthy if you will pardon the pun. They smell as different as exotic species of fungi or roots in a foreign soil. Denobulans find such scents intriguing."

Now it was T'Pol's turn to look impassive. Though allies, the Vulcans thought of Denobulans as a curious species that took great enthusiasm in the exploration of everything. Denobulans enjoyed learning about the places and people they knew and also the unknown, and regarded such ventures as equal of interest.

"Ah, I remember my first interaction with a human. I met with a visitor on Denobula when I was a Junior Medic..."

T'Pol continued to eat her Plomeek broth as she listened to the doctor tell his story. He fashioned the tale with his usual visual embellishments. It achieved its desired effect. It diverted her attention away from any further discussion about the tactical officer.

* * *

Malcolm and Trip had taken a breather from each other after the incident with Shuttlepod One. The distance did not last long. Trip had the most success getting Malcolm into an amiable enough mood to socialize. Malcolm's pessimism dulled around the commander in a way he never thought possible. He found himself wanting to converse regularly with the engineer and Trip was pleased to share a drink him and watch a film after their shifts. It was one such evening that Malcolm gave something away.

The Lieutenant's medications were wearing off. Medicine had evolved enough to develop a drug that minimized his symptoms and since then he made certain to always medicate himself before coming onto the bridge. However, in this relaxed atmosphere in Trip's quarters he had quite forgotten.

Trip was in the middle of telling him about a prank he had played on the captain early in their friendship when it happened. Trip had already been laughing between swigs of beer and Malcolm gave an appreciative chuckle. A loud noise interrupted them. Trip looked over at Malcolm.

"What the hell was that?" He started laughing, his expression incredulous. Surely the prim and proper Lieutenant did not just loudly slip wind.

"It was-" The color in Malcolm's cheeks rose as the sound repeated and trailed off.

Trip doubled over laughing and he nearly fell out of his desk chair. Malcolm chuckled nervously, going along with the situation. He had never anticipated revealing this in the current scenario. He had been somewhat anxious about making noise on the bridge. He would have been mortified there, but here in front of Trip things were different. He would happily pass it off as flatulence if it amused Trip so greatly.

"It was simply some air." He coughed, playing up his embarrassment.

"Oh, is that what they call it?" Trip was still chuckling and grinning like a loon.

Malcolm smiled too.

"Gawd. You're terrible, Malcolm. Who would've guessed? It seems you Brits aren't so fussy after all."

"Fussy?" Malcolm frowned.

"You know, all well-mannered and such."

Malcolm proceeded to get into a mock fight with him about American stereotypes and the like. The slip up was no longer important. Malcolm mentally sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. He knew that he would have managed to keep this from his friend. Right now he was just grateful that he did not have to outright lie to him.

Somehow, he still felt like he was holding something back that he should have told Trip. He had managed to hide it in the shuttlepod. It was his own private business, he reminded himself. He was under no obligation to tell his superiors. Still, there was so much vital information tied up in this one thread of knowledge about himself. Features firming, he resolved to keep it confidential for as long as he could.

* * *

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

The less time Malcolm had to spend in Decon, the better. It was true that it made for a good bonding place with your comrades and an optimal place to kick back a bit, but there was no disputing that it was somewhat awkward. Nothing was hidden here, unless time behind the privacy curtains counted. Malcolm took advantage of that as often as possible.

Frequently, he would crane about to reach his own back. He would allow Hoshi or one of the others to attend his shoulders under the undershirt straps, but that was the extent to which he allowed assistance. He was certain that the others thought him shy or merely proper about undressing. Whatever the excuse, he was grateful for it since they did not insist on his compliance with the whole back rubbing routine. His reluctance had been brought up before, but after his polite refusal they had left him alone.

Their latest away mission was a first contact. The Captain, Travis, and Hoshi had accompanied him to the surface. It had gone well and the Decon was not overlong. Things were going smoothly for a day on Enterprise. He heard the Captain and Hoshi's quiet breathing as they spread their Decon gel over themselves behind their curtains. Hoshi would probably insist on attending his shoulders again while he inevitably treated someone's back.

Travis was digging around in the side cabinet closest to his curtained area. Archer and Hoshi had taken the two jars on their side and must have accidentally left the Helmsman nothing. Phlox would need to restock. Sure enough, Travis asked him about his reserves.

"Hey Malcolm, do you have any Decon gel left on your side?"

"Yes."

Malcolm set aside his container to take out a jar for Travis. He had just picked up the container when he heard it. The curtain rustled. Malcolm froze, realizing that Travis was standing behind him. He must have taken the affirmative answer as permission to enter. Malcolm reached back with the jar, trying to hand it to him without turning around.

"Here. Take it."

"Thanks." Travis took the jar and left.

The Helmsman must not have gotten a good look at him. Though it was still somewhat doubtful if Travis would have understood what exactly he was looking at. Malcolm was wearing his cloth guard. It covered a large amount of skin even when he was shirtless. He was no longer wearing his firmly padded slip-in, the piece he wore for sparring. It was much harder to conceal it completely with the undershirt.

T'Pol knew now. On an away mission she had scanned him along with the surroundings on her tricorder. Her eyebrows had risen and she had met his gaze briefly before relaying the scanner information about the planetoid to the captain. Afterward, she had kept everything to herself. Malcolm had confronted her. She had assured him that there was no need for apprehension. It was his private business and she would regard it as confidential information.

Once again, the matter had escaped their attention. If Phlox and the others had noticed him walk quickly out of Decon that day, they made no comment about it.

* * *

Malcolm strode into sickbay and approached the doctor. He had commed him ahead of time so he knew that the physician was prepared for his visit.

"Ah, Lieutenant! I have all of your supplies prepared."

Malcolm suddenly had a large container thrust into his hands. Though lightweight, it was completely full.

"What's all this?" There were some items he did not recognize and the sheer size of them caused a weightless sensation in his gut. He wondered if the doctor actually felt he needed them.

"I thought I'd give you some supplies to try out and these..." Phlox dug out an enormous clear bag with Velcro padding. "...are to attach to your bunk in case you need to get a good night's rest."

"I really don't need them, Doctor," he said while shaking his head.

"Well, it shouldn't hurt to have them available in case you do need them, hmm?"

"Are the wafers in there?" Eying the little packages, he could not spy his usually requested item from the doctor. They did this bimonthly. Phlox had more storage space in sickbay than Malcolm had in his quarters, so Phlox kept his supplies and doled them out.

"I knew I was forgetting something." Phlox motioned for him to stay where he was while he went to go dig around in his medical supply room. He came out bearing four boxes. He placed them gingerly on the top. "There."

"But I don't need that many," Reed groused. "I only use-"

Phlox held up a hand. "Then save them for whenever next you need them. Have a good evening, Lieutenant."

The Doctor showed his grumbling patient out. Phlox smiled again as he watched Malcolm leave bearing the items for his treatment in his arms.

The hallways were full of busy crewmen just as any other day was on Enterprise. Malcolm had made sure to post extra guards near the Captain today. An old friend was visiting him, his small craft parked in the launchbay. Andorian space was no longer full of perils with the Tellarites, Vulcans, and Andorians in alliance. As far as the general crew knew, this was a social visit.

Senior staff had heard that an election was going on that would determine half of Andoria's new leaders and that some of the candidates were still doubtful about the alliance with Earth. Archer was here to talk to the new to-be-elected leaders to represent his species' good faith.

He heard laughter in the hallways. He was slowly approaching the source of the merriment on his way to the turbolift. He saw his Captain and Commander Shran walking along the corridor. They were laughing heartily and Archer's face had a slight flush. They had obviously been into the Andorian ale, though not overmuch since Archer's gait was steady. Shran's cheekbones were bluer than usual and his antennae waved around almost lazily. Porthos trotted alongside them, keeping close to his master. It seemed that the quadruped was still wary of the alien, but the dog was not agitated about it. They looked familiar with each others presence.

Malcolm came up to them in the hall, murmuring a respectful, "Sir," and tipping a nod. In all the ruckus of the corridor he had to raise his voice.

"Malcolm! Running an errand for Phlox?" Archer smiled. He had seen the Starfleet Medical insignia on his boxes.

"Yes, Sir."

Shran leveled an intensely searching look on him. Malcolm smiled tremulously at the two.

"We won't hold you up then. Porthos, come!" Archer called after his dog when the canine went to go sniff curiously at the tactical officer.

Porthos trotted after them. Malcolm continued on his way. He had just turned a corner close to the turbolift when he was interrupted.

"Lieutenant!" A voice called after him.

Malcolm paused, his heart sinking.

"You dropped a box." Shran suddenly appeared at his side.

Malcolm almost did a double-take. Shran had a way of moving noiselessly that always put his tactical senses on alert. Shran thrust the small box back into his container. Reed wondered if he was about to be interrogated by the Andorian. If there was anyone who could pick up a lie or suspicious behavior where everyone else had failed it was Shran.

The Andorian leaned closer, the ale scent on his breath almost overpowering. "Wishes for better health, pinkskin," he whispered. The universal translator seemed to struggle with the Andorian phrase but the sentiment was clear.

Shran turned his back on him and walked quickly to catch up with Archer. The Captain beamed at the Andorian and they started their conversation back up. Malcolm's eyes widened and he stared after them. Slowly, a smile touched his lips. He continued on his way to his quarters, body no longer tense.

* * *

Author Notes: One more chapter is left. It's actually a real health condition. tbc


	3. Chapter 3

Weeks later, the crew was on shore leave on Risa. Instead of the two days they had previously, they had nearly an entire week to rest on the tropical planet. They had survived the expanse, disabled the Romulan prototype ship, and had brought the Andorians and Tellarites together. Starfleet Command decided that they could use a break. No one was fighting the order, not even the most avid explorers on the ship. Captain Archer and his crew were perfectly content to kick back for a while. Archer was almost looking forward to it. He accompanied his officers down to the planet surface in the shuttlecraft.

Hoshi, Malcolm, and Jonathan had stuck together after seeing off the other crewmembers. Trip had to conduct some business on the ship's behalf to bargain for new parts, but he would meet them at the hotel that evening. Travis was off exploring with some other ensigns. T'Pol was finishing her shift on Enterprise but would join them if only to search for an adequate environment for meditation. Some parts of Risa were renowned for their soothing meditation spots.

The Captain, the Ensign, and the Tactical Officer all traipsed along the beach together. They walked around in a semblance of a search pattern to find a good spot to relax. After a few minutes they found a shady spot and a few blessedly empty chairs. Jonathan got there first and stretched out with a soft groan on a reclining chair. Hoshi plopped herself down in a seat and Malcolm sat quietly beside them. The sun was starting to rise and the air began to heat up.

Hoshi was dressed in a swim suit and sarong, their captain was in his swim trunks and a T-shirt, and Malcolm was in street clothes. Overheated, Archer tossed off his shirt. He glanced over at Malcolm. The Lieutenant's sweaty hair was plastered to his head.

"It's hot," he said softly.

Malcolm shrugged in response.

Archer started up a conversation with Hoshi about vacation plans. On the southern edge of the continent was a range of volcanoes Hoshi wanted to see. It was even warmer there but the volcanoes were apparently well worth the trip. Archer talked about joining her.

Malcolm watched his captain and the ensign. He had told Hoshi about why he never removed his shirt, but he had never taken the Captain into his confidence. They were still healing from the confrontation that ended with him in the brig. Section 31 had effectively created a deep rift between them, one that might never be fully healed. Even now he was keeping secrets for the Section. However, there was one secret that he could finally tell the Captain. Now that Archer knew of his involvement with the covert organization he would lose nothing by showing him. He owed his Captain that much.

Swallowing, Malcolm started to remove his sweat soaked shirt. He heard the Captain pause mid sentence. He tossed off the navy colored tee into the sand and stretched back on the chair. Steeling himself, he looked over and caught Archer's eye.

The Captain had apparently spotted the movement he made to remove his shirt. The motion had been somewhat overzealous and it grabbed his attention. He saw Archer's gaze flick up and down over his torso, over the map-work of scars and the flesh toned bag attached to him. The bag was empty since Malcolm had used the fresher before coming down to the planet. Surprise shown in Archer's eyes and the faintest flicker of something indecipherable. Hoshi peeped over his shoulder to stare at the injuries she had heard so much about but had never seen.

"Your Tactical Officer has some parts missing, Sir." He decided to speak first. The admission was strangely easy for him. Perhaps after all this time he had been anticipating making a clean breast of it.

"When-" Archer cleared his throat. "When were you injured?" He must have known that the sheer amount of scars had to come from times other than battles in the expanse.

"It wasn't under your command," Malcolm said quietly. He had to absolve Archer of the guilt for not noticing or thinking he had a hand in all of it.

"Section 31." It was not a question. His expression was dark.

"After the incident with the Klingons I swore to myself that I wouldn't keep anymore of the Section's secrets. I kept that promise, but this was all before that." The incident had been fairly recent before he came aboard Enterprise. The Doctor had wanted to keep him on light duty for a week until he realized the reason for Malcolm's secrecy. He did not know the specifics, only that Starfleet covert operations was involved.

"I take it that Phlox knows about this?"

"None of the details, but he ensures that I'm kept in top working order."

Hoshi bit her lip, keeping quiet. She must have known that she was present at a important discussion between the two. Being the communications officer probably meant that she heard much but divulged little. Malcolm and the Captain had shown her that she was trusted to listen in on the conversation.

"I assume that the backstory is why you didn't tell me before. You didn't want me to know you had been working for the Section." A trace of anger tinged his voice.

"I had no choice," Malcolm's voice was strained. "My medical files are classified and I've been warned of the consequences of telling anyone." He paused for breath, trying to reassure Archer further and make him see the reasons for decisions he had made in the past. "The Section let me go after sustaining the injuries, but I had been trying to break away from covert operations long before then. Because of the incident I finally succeeded."

Not for the first time, Archer cursed Starfleet under his breath. He was still in shock that the Section existed much of the time. Now it was strangely easy to believe that such an organization would send their wounded away to work on the first Warp 5 Class ship. Though Malcolm was no longer ideal for covert work, he was still useful as a plant.

"You said you're missing some parts," he said while trying to cool his ire.

Now Malcolm looked more unsure, whether it was about the nature of the injuries or the possibility of revealing a past Section assignment it was impossible to tell. "My bowels. Mostly the large intestine. I was close to an explosion and the abdominal trauma I experienced in the aftermath of the blast meant that they had to remove it or I would develop sepsis. I was told that I almost gave up the ghost."

Ignoring his officer's discomfort, Archer battered him with a few more questions. Though cryptic, Malcolm's answers were forthcoming enough. As the tension started to dissolve, Archer's face gained a more thoughtful expression. He knew that Malcolm had been hiding all of this for some time.

The Captain's gaze flickered down to the scarred abdomen again, taking in the sheer amount of marks, including the neat surgical line that started at his navel and extended past his waistband. There were neat little dots in four places over his abdomen that must have been opening sites as well. Then there was the mass of injured tissue, extending in tendrils over the surgical site and converging at his right side. It was difficult for Archer to resent a human being who had obviously been through a great deal of pain. To imagine his diaphragm being opened up like that and to remove entire internal organs…

Hoshi interrupted. "Phlox can't replace your organs?" She looked faintly baffled. Prosthesis and replacements had undergone advanced upgrades since medical science first started replacing limbs and organs.

Malcolm nodded. "It's one of the most complex organs to replace with all of the specialized digestive enzymes and bacteria. Medical Science still has to overcome a few hurdles before that."

They lapsed into silence for a minute before Jon turned to Malcolm again. He studied him.

"I'm glad that you left Section 31." His eyes were saying more. The green irises conveyed a sense of understanding that Malcolm was still the man he knew. Malcolm had cast aside his past loyalties in an effort to come clean to his superior officer. His gaze also conveyed an understanding that the near death experience had probably changed his officer as well, had made him a different person from his Section identity. No one could hope to bring to light all of the Lieutenant's secrets but Jon looked as if he finally had an inkling of the officer behind it all.

"I am too, Sir." Malcolm's smile was somewhat fragile.

They sat quietly, the sunlight starting to stream across them and painting their skin in gold. The breeze picked up and ruffled their hair. Several times it looked as if Archer or Malcolm might say something, but they seemed to both come to the realization that they had made their truce, that they had said all that was necessary. Instead, they took in the scenery. All three of them watched shore birds dance around near the water, on the prowl for smaller animals to prey on.

"I should have brought my hat," Hoshi said.

Jon and Malcolm looked over at the squinting communications officer. Hoshi was wearing a slight frown and shielding her eyes from the sun. Her nose was wrinkled in distaste. There was a pause and Malcolm started chuckling softly. Jon and Hoshi joined in shortly thereafter. When their soft laughter faded away they alighted on new, less weighty topics. The matter may not be fully resolved, but with time they knew the rift between Malcolm and Jonathan would gradually mend. They watched the sunrise, feeling more relaxed at last.

* * *

The End

* * *

Author Notes: Special thanks to Tam for always encouraging me!

A medical 'wafer' is usually a kind of seal for your abdomen. The stoma, which is the intestinal opening to the surface of the stomach, can make noise that may be misinterpreted.

I've never seen a fic about an ostomy before, so I thought I'd get two birds with one stone by writing something unique and sorting out my emotions about my own bag and scarring. Mine is the result of a disease rather than prior abdominal injury. Hopefully I can be forgiven for writing a fan fic about the subject. Heh.


End file.
